


Sexy Motherfucker

by temple_mistress



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin is insatiable, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jedi in love, M/M, Obi-Wan's pancakes are the best, Pancakes with Chocolate, Shaking that ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temple_mistress/pseuds/temple_mistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan makes pancakes and listens to Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexy Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ, December 2005. Edited here for stylistic preferences.
> 
> All lyrics quoted belong to the Artist Currently Known As Prince.

_For Sith’s sake, could that have taken ANY longer?_ Anakin wasn’t sure if he or his stomach grumbled more. He’d overslept and had to choose between breakfast or another mind-numbing lecture from Master Windu on howAnakin would never be a Master if he couldn’t manage to master setting his alarm clock. The clock wasn’t the problem—his especially ardent late night _rendezvous_ with Obi-Wan had left Anakin, well, _depleted_ of all his reserves. Not that he minded terribly. So what if he missed breakfast? Sex now, food later. Always a good policy.

Too bad he’d had to skulk away this morning for a new teachers seminar—being asked to instruct some of the mid-level younglings in saber techniques was a long-sought honor for him. Truth be told, Anakin loved the ego boost he got from the younglings—they obviously thought he was some kind of _Lord of the Lightsaber_.

He smiled smugly to himself—Obi-Wan had certainly seemed to think so last night.

Having never outgrown his penchant for any and all electronic gadgets, Anakin pulled out his portable music player and adjusted the earpods as he scrolled down the list of songs. _Yes_. Just what he was in the mood for. He couldn’t help but swagger a bit as he sang aloud, recalling each and every delicious detail from last evening as he made his way through the hallowed halls of the Temple _._

 _“You don’t have to be beautiful, to turn me on, I just need your body, baby, from dusk till dawn…”_ He laughed when he saw the dirty look and shake of that big bald head of Master Windu before rounding the corner.

He sought out his Master through their bond and could sense Obi-Wan was awake and in a good mood. _Probably doing something_ responsible _, like meditating, cleaning, or Force-forbid it, reading._ Anakin groaned inwardly. _The man has got to learn to relax!_

 _“_ _I just want your extra time and your…,”_ his full red lips smacked the air, _“KISS!”_

_\------------_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned, utterly content to spend the morning lounging in bed until Anakin returned. A big grin spread across his face as he recalled the events of last evening. Anakin was nearly insatiable and last night had been no different. Of course, it would never do to let Anakin see him lazing about. Anakin was sure to think his Master was being all proper, doing something Masterly, like meditating or reading—the two most grievous offenses in Anakin’s mind when you could otherwise sleep, eat, or have sex. Admittedly, he got a kind of Sithly thrill out of perpetuating this myth to Anakin—no need to let him know otherwise just yet.

Well, Obi-Wan had slept, and obviously sex was currently out of the question, so…eating would just have to do. For now.

He groaned a bit as he sat up and looked around the room for wherever Anakin had thrown his Master’s black sleep pants last night, in his haste to remove what he perceived to be an excess of clothing on Obi-Wan’s part. Without bothering to find a shirt, Obi-Wan padded barefoot out to the kitchen, only to find it a bit chilly. With a shiver, and cursing the fact that his partner was not there to warm him up, he grabbed the nearest bit of warmth, which just happened to be Anakin’s blue robe. It was the color of Anakin’s eyes, but more importantly, it was bathed with the younger man’s delicious scent. Obi-Wan wrapped it around himself tightly, breathing deeply and ignoring the irritating fact that the robe dragged—literally _dragged_ —across the floor. _Curse his damn height._ He could hardly remember a time when he didn’t have to look up at Anakin.

 _Well, there_ was _last night…_ he recalled, with a shameless smirk on his lips.

Knowing that Anakin was at a meeting, with Mace Windu, no less, and knowing that he had overslept and had not had breakfast, _and_ knowing how he tended to get without food, Obi-Wan decided to make Anakin’s favorite breakfast—pancakes with chocolate. _Besides,_ he thought wickedly, _it is really in my best interest to keep him well fed._

Calling on the Force in a decidedly casual way, one for which he certainly would have reprimanded Anakin, Obi-Wan gestured towards the audio control unit for their quarters, only to have his sensitive ears nearly explode from the cacophony of noise that emanated from the unit. “What utter _garbage_!” he fumed to himself, flicking his hand out to lower the volume.

Obi-Wan meant to change the song, but found he was oddly attracted to the incessant, grinding beat. As he started pulling out the ingredients and the pan, his humming unconsciously became murmurs that lapsed into full-on singing.

_"You got to not talk dirty, baby, if you wanna impress me…”_

As soon as the words left his lips, he froze in horror. “’You got to not talk dirty’? Where in the Force did this man learn to speak? A Hutt speaks better than that, for Sith’s sake!” He rolled his eyes at the banality of the song. “And why do I even _know_ the words? Honestly, I really need to introduce him to a _good_ musical one of these days. They at least know how to construct a decent lyric using the proper rules of grammar.”

While he mixed up the batter and melted the chocolate, a new song came on, one with a funky, bass-driven beat, something the younger Padawans seemed to prefer lately. He knew his partner was still a kid at heart, and Anakin's taste in music was really no exception, even if it made his Master cringe. It actually made Anakin an outstanding mentor, much to the chagrin of Mace and a few other Masters, who claimed he was going to “corrupt the youth of the Temple.” Obi-Wan thought it was more likely professional petty jealousy on their part. _Fucking drama queens._ Pouring out the batter, he started to sing along again.

_“We need to talk about things, tell me what you do, tell me what you eat, I might cook for you…”_

He laughed at the appropriateness of the words in a song that was so, so… _inappropriate_. The Jedi Master was so into the pancakes, so into the music, that he couldn’t help but dance along, strutting over to the fridge to grab some juice.

“ _You sexy motherfuuuuucker….”_ he sang at the top of his lungs, scrunching up his face like he’d seen many an inane singer do on several of the Holonet programs Anakin forced him to watch, tossing his head from side to side, causing some of the longer locks his hair to tumble forward into his eyes. Actually, Obi-Wan realized, in order to sing like that, he _had_ to make that face. He laughed again, shaking his head back in time to the music, clearing the errant strands from his eyes.

 _Force_ , he was feeling good—he was feeling the music! Who cared if it was the most offensive song he’d ever heard? No one, not even Anakin, was here to see Master Obi-Wan Kenobi getting his groove on. As he danced his way out to the table, feeling as young and as cool as any Padawan, the excessive length of the robe twisted around his ankles.

 _“You sexy mother—_ FUCK!” he yelled, tripping in a most ungraceful, and certainly most _uncool_ way, nearly spilling the juice all over their light carpet.

Thank the Force Anakin hadn’t been there to see _that_. He would never live it down—for as graceful as Obi-Wan was as a Jedi, for some reason that ability seemed to leave him once he entered their quarters. Obi-Wan called it the "Anakin Effect". It may have also had something to do with the fact that his partner had a tendency to leave his stuff strewn about their quarters, particularly on the floor. Or, as Anakin insisted, Obi-Wan could just be clumsy. No, it was _definitely_ Anakin’s fault. Since he entered Obi-Wan’s life, Anakin had often left his Master feeling unbalanced.

Obi-Wan loved him for that.

Bouncing his way back to the kitchen, Obi-Wan flipped the pancakes, enjoying himself immensely.

“ _You seem perplexed I haven’t taken you yet, can’t you see I’m harder than a man can get…”_

His eyes grew wide as the words he sang registered in his ears. _Stars’ end!_ He laughed some more. If only Anakin could see him now.

_And thank the Force he cannot._

\-----

Anakin strode up to their quarters, his stomach growling as he smelled the delicious aroma of pancakes wafting down the hall. _Oh, I_ love _you, Obi-Wan!_ he sighed, anticipating not only his favorite breakfast, but maybe a little continuation of last night’s blindingly hot encounter. He palmed the door open, expecting to find Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revered Jedi Master, placidly making his famous pancakes, probably listening to some of that romantic drivel from some wretched musical.

He wasn’t expecting… _this_. Anakin could never have even _imagined_ this, even in his wildest fantasies about Obi-Wan.

_“Sexy motherfucker, shaking that ass, shaking that ass, shaking that ass…”_

Here was his _Master_ , literally _shaking_ his _ass_ around their kitchen, as he executed a dramatic 3-foot high flip of a pancake, spun around in a circle, and caught it effortlessly on the spatula, never missing a word of the song or a twitch of his hips. Anakin’s mouth gaped open, enraptured by this side of his Master that he had never, ever seen.

“ _Cause I’m usually quite the calm one, you never found me out prowling boy. I’m just having fun, but I’m happy to change my state of mind for this behind.”_ Obi-Wan threw back his arms then, letting his robe— _my robe!_ thought Anakin—fall to the floor. _“I bet that if you threw that ass into the air it would turn into sunshine.”_

At that exact moment, Council Member Kenobi thrust his hips back, throwing said ass into the air.

Anakin’s eye grew wide as he clamped his hand down on his mouth. _By. The. Fucking. Stars._ Anakin could hardly breathe as his chest tightened, his stomach flipped, totally aroused by Obi-Wan’s…stimulating… _performance_. No, that wasn’t quite the word. It was downright _lewd_.

Anakin licked his lips and swallowed hard. Obi-Wan was _never_ lewd.

 _Fuck breakfast_.  He had an altogether different hunger now.

Leaning against the doorframe to watch the show, he crooked a finger at Obi-Wan with a smirk. “Hey, you _sexy motherfucker_ , why don’t you shake that _ass_ right over here?”

Obi-Wan whirled around in surprise, the pancake he was flipping landing in a wet _splotch_ on the floor.  “ _Anakin_ , I- I-” he stuttered, his cheeks immediately flushing crimson under his beard.

Anakin sauntered over, his eyes darkened with a look Obi-Wan knew only too well. “Anakin, I-,” he tried again, but was cut off by soft, demanding lips pressing against his in a hungry kiss.  
  
Wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan, Anakin devoured his Master’s neck, hands skating down to fully grasp that ass that he’d never regard in _quite_ the same way again.

“You _are_ one sexy motherfucker, Obi-Wan,” he whispered teasingly into the ear he was gently tasting.

Obi-Wan chuckled and moaned in response, pulling Anakin closer. “And your taste in music is appalling,” he managed to get out between gasps.

“ _My_ taste? I’m not the one putting on the show!” Anakin retorted against Obi-Wan's lips, absently flicking off the pan's power unit while steering them away from the kitchen.

“Yes, w-well…" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, arching his neck up invitingly. "You could use some better influences…like a _good_ musical.” 

Anakin groaned, tugging at his Master's sleep pants as they bumped and stumbled into the bedroom. “No! No more musicals! Have you forgotten the last time?”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow suggestively, remembering. “Oh, yes. I still have pen smudges on my…” He swore lightly as he tripped over one of Anakin's boots, sending them crashing to the bed.

Snickering, Anakin shushed him with another searing kiss, yanking Obi-Wan closer. “Yeah, yeah, why don’t you let me take care of those…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Those "smudges" and Anakin's aversion to musicals are explained in XtinethePirate's "The Movie Fic" over on LJ/FFN. :D


End file.
